Six Extra Members
by Elizabeth Twitch
Summary: A story where Malcolm travels with the company of Thorin Oakenshield. He thinks the quest is the opportunity of a lifetime, until they encounter the different members of his family along the way. The dwarves are less than happy, but they get more than they bargained for with the whole family on their side! Based on the movies by PJ. All credit goes to him and Linwood Boomer.
1. Arrival

**Chapter One**

Malcolm landed on the grass with a thump. Dirt stuck to the side of his head as he rolled about, groaning and wondering what the hell had just happened to him. One moment, he was sitting in his room, reading _The Hobbit_ and vaguely listening to Reese shouting at Dewey while his father tried to break up a fight between Malcolm's mother and his brother, Francis, and the next, the room was turning odd colors and distorting itself. Malcolm felt like he was going to seriously faint for a moment, before toppling off the bed that he and Dewey shared, and, instead of meeting the tiled floor, he landed in...some sort of meadow?

Malcolm retched in the grass, trying to shake the feeling of nausea from his worn body.

"I do apologize," came a voice behind him. "Inter-dimensional travelling can be a nasty business. I myself choose to avoid it unless absolutely necessary."

Malcolm started and looked up. Standing before him was an old man. He had a long grey beard and matching robes and pointed hat. He carried a long wooden stick that was heavily twisted up on one end. His blue eyes were looking at Malcolm with something akin to concern, though the boy could swear he saw a twinkle of amusement in them.

"Who the hell are you?" Malcolm asked. "Where am I?"

"Oh yes, of course!" cried the old man, as if he had forgotten something. "How very rude of me. My name is Gandalf. Gandalf the Grey. And you are Malcolm Wilkerson, who has literally just toppled out of bed and into Middle Earth. Good Gracious me, what a day you are having so far!"

Malcolm blinked. "Middle Earth?" Something swam before his addled eyes, a passage from the book he had just been reading. But nothing could truly come into focus, so he waved it away. If it was important, he would surely remember it later.

"Yes, my dear boy. It is a realm separate from your own that represents a period marking the existence of, well, magic. Of myself and those who share my talents," said Gandalf.

"Are you kidding? No, I can't be here. I'm at home, with my family... My family?" He looked at Gandalf. "Are they here too?" He looked around.

A strange smile lit up Gandalf's face. "No, Malcolm. Well, they are not in this very meadow, if that is what you are implying. You will, however, encounter them on your travels."

"My _what?"_

Gandalf reached down and pulled him up. "Your travels. Come, we have much to discuss."


	2. Baggins of Bag-End

**Chapter Two**

"Let me get this straight!" cried Malcolm some time later.

"As straight as you can, dear boy."

"You want me to go on a quest with some dwarves to fight a dragon."

"Yes."

"Because I'm smart."

"Because your accelerated intellect will prove useful in calculations and plans that the company may need to successfully complete the quest."

"And my family is also in this...this...Middle Earth, but I have to find them along the way."

Gandalf sensed the boy's insecurity from his tone of voice. "Malcolm, you do not have to go through with this."

Malcolm sighed, hardly believing that any of this was true. He and Gandalf were now walking through what looked like a small farming town, except everything was about half the size that it should be, even the people, and the "houses" were just holes in mounds of grass, covered with bright, perfectly round doors. People were giving them odd looks as they passed, and Malcolm was returning the favor, though Gandalf was more reticent. Malcolm realized that to say no would be turning down the chance to not only do something incredibly cool, but also prove string theory at the same time.

"Okay I'll do it. Will I get paid?"

"Of course."

"Nice!"

Gandalf stopped suddenly. "Now, Malcolm," he began, "we are about to approach a hobbit by the name of Bilbo Baggins. If all goes as it should, he will be accompanying us on the quest to reclaim Erebor."

Malcolm nodded, and Gandalf led him a few more steps further until they stood before a hobbit-hole with a brilliant green door. In front of it sat one of the halflings, leaning back with his eyes closed and smoking a pipe. He puffed out a rather impressive smoke ring which dissolved midair before Gandalf himself produced a similar pipe and created an undoubtedly magical smoke butterfly which flitted about before landing on the hobbit's face. The hobbit twitched his nose and opened his eyes, which flicked between the boy and the elderly wizard that stood before him.

"Good morning!" said the hobbit.

Malcolm raised his eyebrow, but nonetheless responded, "Good morning."

"What do you mean 'good morning'?" Gandalf interjected. "Do you mean to wish me a good morning, or do you mean to say that it is good whether I like it or not? Or perhaps you mean that you feel good on this morning, or that it is a morning to be good on?"

"Er," said the hobbit, "all at once, I suppose! Can I help you?"

Malcolm stifled a laugh. In a very odd way, he liked Gandalf while at the same time, he found him very irritating. Gandalf reminded him a little of an older version of his brother, Francis.

Gandalf said, "That remains to be seen. I'm looking for someone to share in an adventure."

"Yeah!" said Malcolm. "And there's a dragon."

"An adventure?" said the hobbit. "Now, I don't imagine anyone west of Bree would have much interest in adventures. Nasty, disturbing, uncomfortable things! Make you late for dinner."

"Wouldn't you rather be out doing something fun than just staying in and eating?" asked Malcolm, bewildered. "My brother Reese will sometimes set mice loose on the table just to watch my dad freak."

"Well said, young Malcolm," Gandalf chuckled. "Well said."

"Hm!" said the hobbit. "Young man, your brother sounds like a bit of a troublemaker. And I count myself lucky that there are no such troublemakers here!"

"Well now, Bilbo Baggins," said Gandalf. "I seem to remember quite a mischievous young hobbit. You are, after all, Belladonna Took's son, are you not?"

Bilbo seemed surprised that Gandalf knew who he was.

Gandalf continued, "Well now, I suppose I should introduce myself. My name is Gandalf, and Gandalf means me. This is Malcolm Wilkerson of the Globe World."

"Gandalf...not Gandalf the wandering wizard who made such excellent fireworks? We used to have them on midsummer's eve! I had no idea you were still in business."

"And where else should I be?"

Malcolm was growing impatient with this conversation! For god's sake, he wanted to go on the quest. For the first time in his life his mother was not hovering at his shoulder, and he had a chance to be brave like Francis. Why couldn't Gandalf and Bilbo just hurry up?

"Look, are you coming with us or not?" Malcolm exploded. "Gandalf wants you to."

Gandalf looked amused and Bilbo mortified.

"No, no!" said Bilbo. "I'm sorry, young man, but we don't want any adventures here, thank you very much! Good morning."

Bilbo flew up the steps to his house and close the door behind him.

"What a square," said Malcolm. "I can never understand how some people manage to be so boring."

"Not to worry, Master Wilkerson," said Gandalf. "I do believe that Bilbo Baggins will prove of some use yet to our quest. As will you," he added meaningfully.

Gandalf descended upon Bilbo's green door, and with the end of his staff, scratched a mark into the paint. It looked like a verticle line with two diagonal branches on one side. Malcolm swore he saw it glow blue.

"We will see what our hobbit chooses to do," Gandalf murmured, "when the unexpected invade his life."


	3. Dwarves at Supper

**Chapter Three**

Gandalf took Malcolm to eat in a Hobbiton inn.

"Why are all the glasses so tiny?" Malcolm whined, looking down at his unsatisfying glass of orange juice.

"Well, you must remember that most hobbits living in this village have never seen anyone of our size. That could explain part of Mr. Baggins' indifference towards us."

"What're you doing about him?" asked Malcolm.

"Tonight, Master Wilkerson, you are to take dinner at Mr. Baggins' hobbit-hole, Bag-End. He will not expect you to come, but no matter what he says you must stay in that house, do you understand? I will take you there and then retrieve the rest of the company. Well, most of it. I do expect your family to join us when we encounter them."

"Why does my family have to come? I promise, they'll just ruin everything. Especially my mom."

"Malcolm, your family is from the Globe World, a world that has been spoken of in ancient texts but has passed into myths. When people discover who you are or where you are from, they will want to know every shred of your life. Wouldn't you want Lois Wilkerson there to scare them off?"

"How do you know my mother?"

"I am magic."

Several hours later, Gandalf and Malcolm were once again outside Bag-End. Now, in the dark, Malcolm was certain that the mark was glowing blue.

"Remember that Mr. Baggins will be very surprised by your intrusion," said Gandalf. "Do not forget to use this to your advantage."

With that, he clapped Malcolm on the back and disappeared.

"Good god," said Malcolm. "Alright, let's get this over with. Stupid square hobbit."

He knocked on the door. There was a pause, and out stepped a very bewildered hobbit. He looked at Malcolm with a slightly condescending eye.

"Oh, you again? I'm very sorry, young man, but I do believe you are at the wrong house."

"No, I'm not," objected Malcolm rudely. "Gandalf told me to have dinner here. Are you gonna let me in."

Bilbo glared at the child who dared to talk back to him...but he was a Baggins of Bag-End, and Bagginses were nothing if not hospitable. He reluctantly led Malcolm into the hole and sat him down with a plate of supper. Although Malcolm didn't say so, one of the best things so far of being in Middle Earth was the decent food he didn't get at home. Malcolm was just finishing when the doorbell rang.

Bilbo now looked truly frightened as he got up to answer it. Malcolm stayed where he was but he could here voices. The one that didn't sound like Bilbo was saying, "Dwalin, at your service," and Malcolm swore he heard, "Bilbo Baggins at yours."

"Where is it, laddie," said Dwalin. He had a heavy accent, maybe Scottish or Irish. "Is it down here?"

"What?" asked Bilbo.

"Supper! He said there would be food, and lots of it."

"Down here!" called Malcolm. Dwalin followed the noise and saw Malcolm grinning at him through his plate of food.

He was a dwarf, but very tall nonetheless. He had a short braided beard and a bald head, and he was dressed in an odd tunic of animal skins.

"Don't tell me that you are the Globe child that Gandalf chose!" said Dwalin. "You look to small to do much of anything, laddie!"

"Hey, I know I'm not big, don't remind me. But I'm smart, probably even smarter than you!"

"Oi, laddie, I meant no offense. Not like I have a choice anyhow. Gandalf wants you with us, and he is the wizard."

Dwalin sat down to eat. Malcolm found himself disgusted by the dwarf's table manners, but tried not to let it show, though he couldn't stop wincing once in awhile. The dwarf was just finishing his plate of fish and starting on a pile of small muffins when the doorbell rang again. Bilbo went to answer it.

"Balin, at your service," Malcolm heard.

"Good evening," Bilbo wavered.

"Yes. Yes, it is! Have the others arrived?"

"Others?" asked Bilbo as Balin entered the kitchen. he was a dwarf also, but much short than Dwalin. His beard, however was longer and very white as opposed to Dwalin's dark brown.

"Oho!" said Balin.

"You're shorter and whiter than when we last met," said Dwalin.

"Whiter, not shorter. Already short enough for both of us, I think." Balin eyed Dwalin's great height for a dwarf.

Without warning, the dwarves clunked their heads together. Neither seemed hurt by it, but Bilbo still flinched. Malcolm noticed that Bilbo was still trying to be hospitable, even though he had no idea who these dwarves were, or what exactly they were doing in his house. Bilbo strode across the room, unnoticed by Balin and Dwalin, who seemed to be catching up, and grabbed Malcolm's shoulder. Bilbo pulled Malcolm out into Bag-End's hallway and began questioning him fiercely.

"Does Gandalf have something to do with this?" Bilbo hissed. "Because I know that you were travelling with him. I told him that I don't want anything to do with this adventure business, and now there are these dwarves in my kitchen!"

Just as Bilbo was about to go off the edge into full-rant mode (something that Malcolm, after living with his mother for his whole life, was all too familiar with), the doorbell rang again. Bilbo, now looking completely agonized.


	4. Explaining Life in the Globe World

**Chapter Four**

Two new dwarves arrived, Fili and Kili. They both looked alike and rather young, except that Fili was blonde and Kili was dark-haired. Immediately after seeing them in his doorway, Bilbo told them to go away, and tried to slam the door, but Kili deflected it.

"Has it been cancelled?" asked Kili.

"No one told us," Fili added, looking almost as confused as Bilbo.

"What? No, nothing's been cancelled..." Bilbo began, but he was cut off.

"Oh, that's a relief," Kili grinned, pushing past Bilbo. He and Fili stopped when they saw Malcolm standing there.

"Now, who is this?" asked Fili looking up at Malcolm. "Gandalf didn't say that there would be a human child accompanying us."

"I'm not a child."

"Oops, sorry!" said Kili, not sounding sorry at all.

"For your information, I am from the Globe World!" said Malcolm. He didn't really get what that meant, but from the way Gandalf said it, he could guess that it was something very important.

Fili and Kili sobered instantly. "Well I never..." said Fili. "Are you really?"

"Yes, Gandalf brought me here for my brain!" said Malcolm, trying to straighten up.

"For your brain?" asked Kili, startled.

"Well, because my brain can help you!" said Malcolm. This was a bust, he thought. These dwarves didn't respect him. How would he convey to them the depths of his genius?

Almost immediately after Fili and Kili arrived the doorbell rang again. This time, when Bilbo went to answer it, yelling about how he had too many dwarves in his kitchen, there were eight dwarves who toppled forward onto the rug to reveal...Gandalf.

"Hi, Gandalf," said Malcolm.

"I knew it!" cried Bilbo.

Bilbo only grew crankier as Malcolm and the dwarves began setting up shop for a group meal in Bilbo's dining room. He kept trying to taking his chairs from people trying to move them, saying that they were antiques. Gandalf, meanwhile, took to doing a head count of the company.

"Malcolm, of course," he said. "Fili. Kili. Oin. Gloin. Dwalin. Balin. Bifur, Bofur, Bombur. Dori, Nori, Ori."

He was approached by one of the dwarves, who spoke to him in a language that Malcolm couldn't understand. "Yes, you're quite right, Bifur. We appear to be one dwarf short."

Dwalin reassured Gandalf that "he" would be here soon, and another dwarf, Dori, came forward to offer Gandalf some wine.

Malcolm sat down at the table.

"Malcolm!" cried Kili. He passed Malcolm a tray of food.

"What? I can have more?"

"Of course! This is a feast!"

All the dwarves cheered encouragement, and Malcolm, who was used not only to getting one-course meals, but also rather unsubstantial ones, gratefully took some more food.

"So, Malcolm," said one dwarf. Malcolm thought his name was Gloin. "The lads say you're from the Globe World."

"Yeah."

"What's it like?"

The dwarves actually managed to get quieter, and they all leaned forward in interest. Malcolm struggled to describe his life.

"Well, I don't know what to say. It's big. I'm from a place called California...it's one of the biggest states in the US."

"The what now?" asked Bofur.

Malcolm spent about ten minutes briefly explaining first the concept of continents, then countries, then the United States. The dwarves stared at him, fascinated, the whole time.

"So the US is among the world's most powerful countries," Malcolm finished, "and it has fifty states. The one I live in is called California."

"And tell me," Balin prodded, "what is it like living there?"

"Miserable," said Malcolm. This earned him many surprised glances. "The town I live in has hundreds of bullies, all of whom would beat me to a pulp without a second glance, just because I'm in the Krelboyne class. My father is the local loon, my mother is a control freak, and the brother I love most got sent away to military school years ago and hasn't lived at home since."

"Oh come now, laddie," said Oin. "Your mother surely wouldn't appreciate your calling her a control freak. What's she ever done to you?"

Malcolm gave a dangerous chuckle and proceeded to give the dwarves a description of one of his mother's fits of rage. "She yells at us nonstop and then grounds us."

"'Grounds' you?"

"That's what we call it when parents basically hold their kids prisoner. You only leave the house from school. When you're at home you can't leave your room, you can't speak to anyone outside your family, and then your mom comes in and yells at you every five minutes."

"Surely your brothers find some way to help you?" said Kili, glancing at his own brother.

"Francis would. He's the brother I like best. But Reese and Dewey just try to get me in more trouble. Other than that, Dewey is okay, but Reese hits me. A lot."

"And what is the Krelboyne class?" asked Ori.

When Malcolm told him, no one believed it.


	5. Thorin

**Chapter Five**

"Your world sounds terrible!" said Gloin. "Families turn on each other, children are mocked for their intelligence, and parents sound absolutely brutal!"

"I haven't even told you what we've done to the environment."

Malcolm told them, which started an uproar that lasted for the rest of the meal. When everyone had finished eating, they started wandering about, blindly "cleaning". Nori even started to wipe off the plate he had been using. Malcolm was just about to amusedly tell him what he was doing wrong, but Bilbo beat him to it.

"Excuse me, that is a doily, not a dishcloth!"

"But it's full of holes!" said Bofur.

"It supposed to look like that, it's crochet."

"Oh, and a wonderful game it is, too. If you've got the balls for it," said Bofur.

"Not _croquet,_ he said _crochet,"_ Malcolm corrected. "It's a type of needlework. I know because my friend Stevie's mother does it."

Out in the hall, Bilbo was saying to Gandalf, "...There's mud trod into the carpet, they've pi-pillaged the pantry, I'm not even going to tell you what they've done in the bathroom, they've all but destroyed the plumbing. And I don't understand what they're doing in my house!"

"Excuse me," said Ori, walking up to Bilbo. "I'm sorry to interrupt. But what shall I do with my plate...?"

"Here you go, Ori, give it to me," said Fili, and, to Bilbo's horror and Malcolm's astonishment, he threw the plate down the hall to Kili.

Kili, in turn, threw the plate into the kitchen, where, though Bilbo and Malcolm could not see it, Bifur caught it. Fili followed Ori's plate with his own and a bowl, which Kili bounced off his feet for a while before tossing it to Bifur. Bilbo's cries of protest were met with deaf ears from the dwarves in both the hall and the kitchen. The latter were seated at the table, and creating a steady beat by banging their utensils first on the table and then scraping them against one another. Bofur, Gloin, and Nori especially found this game very amusing.

"And can you not do that?!" yelped Bilbo. "You'll blunt them!"

"Ooh, d'ya hear that, lads?" called a grinning Bofur. "He says we'll blunt the knives."

Suddenly, Kili started a song that all the dwarves joined in singing:

 _"Blunt the knives, bend the forks._

 _Smash the bottles and burn the corks._

 _Chip the glasses and crack the plates..._

 _That's what Bilbo Baggins hates!_

 _Cut the cloth and tread on the fat._

 _Leave the bones on the bedroom mat._

 _Pour the milk on the pantry floor._

 _Splash the wine on ev'ry door._

 _Dump the crocks in a boiling bowl._

 _When you've finished, if any are whole..._

 _Send them down the hall to roll!_

 _That's what Bilbo Baggins hates!"_

The improvised song was accompanied by fast-paced music from Bofur's flute and dishes flying nonstop around Bag-End. Malcolm was absolutely certain that they would break something, and so, it seemed, was Bilbo, for both of them managed to claw their way through the mess of dwarves where they found, amazingly, that not a single dish had been broken; on the contrary, they were all in a neat pile, with Gandalf and the dwarves laughing around it.

Suddenly, there were three sharp knocks from the door.

Everybody, even Bilbo, fell deathly quiet.

"He is here," said Gandalf, and made to answer the door.

"Who is?" asked Malcolm, but no one paid any attention.

At the door was a tell, regally dressed dwarf. He looked around, letting his eyes eventually settle up at Gandalf.

"Gandalf," he said. "I thought you said this place would be easy to find. I lost my way. Twice. I wouldn't have found it at all if it weren't for that mark on the door."

"Mark?" asked Bilbo. "There is no mark on that door, it was painted a week ago."

"There is a mark, I put it there myself," said Gandalf. As though defacing other people's property was a hobby of his. "Bilbo Baggins, allow me to introduce the leader of our company, Thorin Oakenshield. Also, Thorin, this is Malcolm Wilkerson of the Globe World."

Thorin approached Bilbo first. "So this is the hobbit. Tell me, Mister Baggins, have you done much fighting?"

"Pardon me?"

"Axe or sword? Which is your weapon of choice?"

"Well, I have some skill at Conkers, if you must know, but I fail to see why that's relevant."

"Thought as much. He looks more like a grocer than a burglar." Now Thorin made his way slowly over to Malcolm.

"Gandalf," Thorin said disgustedly. "You did not mention the fact that our 'friend' from the Globe World would be a child."

"I'm not a child!" said Malcolm, and the dwarves all chuckled.

"No? How old are you?"

"Twelve, but my I.Q. test showed that my mindset was much, much more advanced."

Gandalf, guessing that Thorin was about to ask what an I.Q. test was, hurriedly broke in with, "I will explain later."

Thorin asked Malcolm the same question he asked Bilbo, "Axe or sword?"

"Knives. Small ones. Those are the only weapons my mom would let me carry around, just to protect myself from bullies. But I also have a good aim with a crossbow. My brother, Francis, got one for me once."


	6. The Contract

**Chapter Six**

Bilbo gave Thorin a plate of food, and everybody sat with him at the table while he ate.

"What news from the meeting in Ered Luin?" inquired Balin. "Did they all come?"

"Aye," said Thorin. "Envoys from all seven kingdoms."

"And what do the dwarves of the Iron Hills say?" asked Dwalin. "Is Dain with us?"

"They will not come. They say this quest is ours and ours alone."

"You're going on a quest?" asked a surprised Bilbo.

"Yes!" said Malcolm. "That's we're all here, duh."

Everyone looked at Malcolm, irritated, until Gandalf said, "Bilbo, my dear fellow, let us have some more light."

Bilbo went and got a candle, and Gandalf produced a map. He laid it out on the table and everybody leaned in to get a better look. Drawn in neat black ink was a mountain shadowed by a dragon that circle the peak. There were runes written on it that Malcolm could not read, but it seemed that Gandalf could, for he read aloud, "Far to the East, over ranges and rivers, lies a single solitary peak."

Malcolm read the map's label, which, thankfully, was in English. "The Lonely Mountain?"

"Aye, laddie," said Gloin. "Oin has read the portents, and the portents say it is time!"

Oin added, "Ravens have been seen flying back to the mountain as it was foretold. 'When the birds of yore return to Erebor, the reign of the beast will end.'"

Bilbo suddenly looked worried. "What beast?"

Malcolm rolled his eyes. "I assume it's the dragon."

"Aye," said Bofur. "Smaug the terrible, to be exact. Chiefest and greatest calamity of our age. Airborne fire-breather. Teeth like razors. Claws like meat hooks. Extremely fond of precious metals."

"Yes, I know what a dragon is," said a hyperventilating Bilbo.

Ori stood up suddenly. "I'm not afraid," he declared. "I'm up for it. I'll give him a taste of Dwarvish iron right up his jacksie!"

The dwarves all laughed and cried out as Dori pulled Ori back into his seat.

"The task would be difficult enough with an army behind us," reminded Balin dejectedly. "But we number just thirteen, and not thirteen of the best, nor brightest."

All the dwarves started screeching, making such a noise that Malcolm, even after years of living with his mother's shouting fits, actually had to put his hands over his ears.

"We may be few in number, but we're fighters, all of us, to the last dwarf!" said Fili.

"And what about Malcolm?" prodded Dori. "Gandalf told us that he was among the best and brightest in his world, and I, for one, am prepared to trust him!"

Malcolm grinned smugly, as his companions mumbled their approval.

"Yes, and let us not forget Gandalf!" cried Kili. "He is a wizard, surely he must have killed hundreds of dragons in his time!"

It couldn't have been clearer from the look on Gandalf's face that this wasn't true in the slightest; in fact, when Gandalf started mumbling and looking down, Malcolm and the dwarves realized that it was very possible he had never even killed one. When Dori demanded that he tell them how many he had killed, this incited a loud and heated argument, until Thorin shouted something and everyone fell silent to look at him.

"if we have read these signs, do you not think others will have read them too? Rumors have begun to spread. The dragon, Smaug, has not been seen for sixty years, eyes look East to the mountain. Assessing, wondering, weighing the risks. Perhaps the vast wealth of our people now lies unprotected. Do we sit back while others claim what is rightfully ours, or do we seize this chance to take back Erebor?"

Everybody cheered their encouragement.

Much was uncovered in the next few minutes. Apparently there was a secret door that was the only way to get into Erebor; Gandalf had the key and he gave it to Thorin. Gandalf then mentioned that a task ahead of the company would require stealth and courage.

"That's why we need a burglar!" said Ori.

"Mm, and a good one, too. An expert, I'd imagine," said Bilbo.

Malcolm rolled his eyes, knowing only what Bilbo himself could not yet.

"And are you?" asked Balin.

"Am I what?"

"A burglar!" Malcolm almost screeched. "You know, your job on this quest? The reason we're all in your house?"

"What, me?! I'm not a burglar! I've never stolen a thing in my life."

"Oh, please," Malcolm groaned. "Anyone can steal if they want to. It's easy."

 _"You_ should be our burglar," Bombur marvelled.

"I agree," Balin acquiesced. "It says enough that Master Wilkerson has already agreed to this venture, even with his young age. Mister Baggins is hardly burglar material."

"Yes, exactly!" said Bilbo enthusiastically.

"Enough!" cried Gandalf. He stood up suddenly, the room becoming dark around him. When he spoke, his voice seemed to have become much deeper. "If I say Bilbo Baggins is a burglar, then a burglar he is." He seemed to calm down and whatever spell he put on the room fell apart. Gandalf sat back down. "Hobbits are remarkably light on their feet, in fact, they can pass unseen by most if they choose. And, while the dragon is accustomed to the smell of dwarf and man flesh, the scent of hobbit is all but unknown to him, giving us a distinct advantage. You asked me to find the thirteenth member of this company, and I have chosen Mister Baggins. There's a lot more to him than appearances suggest, and he's got a lot more too offer than any of you know...including himself. You must trust me on this."

Once again ignoring Bilbo's protests, Thorin and the other dwarves seemed to reluctantly agree, and Balin produced a long contract and motioned for Malcolm and Bilbo to come take a look.

"Just the usual summary of out-of pocket expenses, time required, remuneration, funeral arrangements, so forth," he said.

 _"F-Funeral arrangements?"_ Bilbo gasped. "How dangerous will this be?"

"Oh, please," Malcolm snorted. "Once my brother Reese tied me up, put lit matches in my nose and my mouth and balanced me on the end of a tree branch directly above a pile of fireworks. I think I can handle it. Does anyone have a pen?"

The dwarves cheered for him as Balin passed Malcolm a quill pen dipped in black ink. Malcolm skimmed the contract, satisfied himself with a risk that was worth the fun, and signed his name at the bottom in his best handwriting.


	7. Misty Mountains, Cold

**Chapter Seven**

"This has gone far enough!" pleaded Bilbo placing his hands in the air and waving them to get attention. "I have hosted you even after you invaded my house and ate all my food. But this is just too much. I cannot stand by and watch the exploitation of children. Putting Malcolm's life at risk is wrong."

"You don't get to tell me what to do," Malcolm sneered.

"Quite right," Gandalf nodded, but Thorin looked uncertain.

"For once the hobbit may have a point," he said. "The wild is no place for children."

"You're probably right, but I already signed the contract. So there."

Thorin stared at him. He looked at Gandalf whose eyebrows were raised in amusement. Thorin sighed, pinched the skin between his eyes, and murmured something about the quest being doomed.

"Now the question is your participation in this journey, Bilbo Baggins," said Gandalf.

Bilbo snatched the contract from Malcolm and muttered words from it under his breath. Thorin, meanwhile, looked back up and leaned over to Gandalf.

"I cannot guarantee their safety."

"Understood."

"Nor will I be responsible for their fates."

"Agreed."

Bilbo was just getting to something about...incineration? _"Incineration?"_

"Oh, aye, he'll melt the bones of your flesh in the blink of an eye," Bofur mentioned.

"Sounds like mom..." Malcolm mused.

"Ah." Bilbo looked a little green. Balin asked if he was alright and Bilbo mumbled something about feeling faint.

"Think furnace with wings." Bofur again.

"Cool," whispered Malcolm.

Bilbo needed air and said so. It was met with deaf ears.

"Flash of light, searing pain, then poof, you're nothing more than a pile if ash!"

A few moments of silence. Then Bilbo said, "No," and crashed to the ground in a faint.

"Very helpful, Bofur, thank you," said Gandalf dryly.

Bofur and Dwalin carried Bilbo to his lounge and heaped him onto a large armchair. He woke up just a few minutes later and Gandalf went in to speak with him. Malcolm, meanwhile, hovered in the kitchen, between the drawing room, where the dwarves regrouped and the lounge and listened indirectly to the dwarves' smalltalk and Bilbo and Gandalf's argument.

Tobacco...sit quietly...

Beer...Bullroarer Took...

Burglar...golf...

Battle...can you promise...

Fun...you've got the wrong hobbit...

Malcolm sighed at Bilbo's circumspect nature, mentally comparing him to his neighbors and his classmates' parents. How did people like them ever enjoy themselves? Couldn't they realize that sometimes putting your life in danger is the best thing anyone could ever do? Surviving stuff built you self-confidence...and besides, who doesn't love flooding their own house while their parents are away?

He went back into the drawing room, where the dwarves all greeted him, but he heard Balin and Thorin's groans from the hallway soon after and knew that Bilbo had given up and decided to remain Baggins of Bag-End. Oh, well, nobody really needed him, anyway.

Thorin entered the room and began to sing:

 _"Far over the Misty Mountains, cold._

 _To dungeons deep, and caverns old._

 _We must away, ere break of day._

 _To find our long-forgotten gold."_

This song wasn't like the first one, is was slow and serious. Balin and then the rest of the dwarves soon joined Thorin.

 _"The pines were roaring on the height._

 _The winds were moaning in the night._

 _The fire was red, it flaming spread._

 _The trees like torches, blazed with light."_

Malcolm soon dropped off to sleep, his head filled with excitement.


	8. The Journey Begins

**Chapter Eight**

Malcolm was woken up at four A.M. by Thorin. He immediately tried to put one of Bilbo's couch cushions over his head, but Thorin swept it away and yanked him to his feet.

"Jesus...do we really have to leave so early?"

"Yes. Now move along."

Malcolm, half asleep, tried to smooth out his clothes. He realized that he had absolutely nothing with him from home except his Krelboyne-class brain. This adventure may turn out to be harder than he anticipated.

They tracked their way out of Hobbiton to a woods where sixteen ponies and a horse for Gandalf were waiting for them.

"Master Wilkerson?" called one of the dwarves. Malcolm turned to see that it was Balin. "I heard from Gandalf that, well, in the Globe World, there are more advanced modes of transportation than horses."

"Like cars."

"If you say so. Anyway, I hope you wouldn't feel offended, but I sort of wondered..well, do you actually know how to ride a horse. Because if not, you are more than welcome to ride with one of us." All the dwarves craned their heads to look at Malcolm.

"It's okay," he answered with ease. "Once, my brother Dewey stole a valuable stallion from it's owner and we hid it from our parents. We locked it in our room and barricaded the door. When the cops came to take us to juvy we panicked and ended up riding it all around town until my brother Francis's friend Richie hid us. We had to wait out in his basement for three days while our parents returned the horse and bailed us out, but we still got it when Mom found us."

Everyone gaped at him.

He continued, "Anyway, these are a lot smaller. I think I can handle it."

"...Right. Well then. Off we go!"

As they began their journey, their conversation turned to Bilbo. Many of the dwarves (plus Gandalf) were disappointed in him for not turning up, and were almost certain that he would have a change of heart. Most of the company (including Malcolm) just considered him a prissy weakling. This eventually led to the placement of bets on Bilbo's actions, which, of course, Malcolm could not take part in.

Riding through the woods was the very definition of boring so Malcolm started to do math problems in his head. Just to have _something_ to focus on. Forty-five times fifty-four is two-thousand, four-hundred and thirty. Three-hundred and forty-nine divided by eighty-five is four-point-one-zero-five-eight-eight-two-three-five-two-nine-four. Eight-thousand, five-hundred and thirty cubed is six-hundred and twenty billion, six-hundred and fifty million, four-hundred and seventy-seven thousand.

"What are you doing?" asked Kili.

"Hm? Oh, I'm doing math."

"Math?"

"Yeah, like, one-hundred and twenty-eight thousand times four-hundred and thirteen is fifty-two thousand, eight-hundred and sixty-four."

Fili rode up next to them. "How did you know that?"

"I guess I just multiplied it in my head."

"That quickly?!"

"I have an I.Q. of one-hundred and sixty-five."

Fili and Kili were bemused. "What's an I.Q.?"

"An I.Q., my nephews," Thorin responded from directly ahead of them, "is a conclusion that Globe World people come to about a child's intelligence to belittle said child's peers. It means that Master Wilkerson is considered to be a genius of sorts."

"Right. Anyway-"

Malcolm was cut short by a yelling that got closer and closer.

"Wait! Wait!"

It was Bilbo, racing towards them with a piece of paper trailing in his hand. Upon closer inspection, Malcolm could see that it was the contract.

"I signed it," Bilbo panted.

Balin took it from him. Malcolm leaned forward and glimpsed Bilbo's name written directly underneath his.

"Well, everything appears to be in order," said Balin, looking back at Bilbo with the pocket-glass he used to inspect the paper. "Welcome, Master Baggins, to the company of Thorin Oakenshield."

Everybody except Thorin and Malcolm cheered. The latter tried to hide how impressed he was. The former said, "Give him a pony."

Bilbo, who was apparently terrified to ride a pony, immediately began to object, but Fili and Kili grabbed on to him and pulled him onto a pony, leaving only one not in use.

"Come on, Nori, pay up!" said Oin, referring to their earlier bet. Nori did, tossing him a sack of coins. The other dwarves who lost their bets soon followed suit. The next few hours went by smoothly in general, except for Bilbo almost making them stop so he could get his handkerchief. Finally, they settled down to make camp and get some rest at the edge of a cliff.

Malcolm was just going to sleep when a hair-raising scream pierced the dark silence. He and Bilbo both sat up.

"What was that?" asked the petrified hobbit.

"Orcs," Kili answered, looking only mildly interested.

"Orcs?"

"Middle-Earth clones of Reese," Malcolm mumbled, paling at the possibility.

"Throat-cutters," Fili added. "There'll be dozens of them out there. The lowlands are crawling with them."

"They strike in the wee small hours when everyone's asleep," Kili whispered. "Quick and quiet, no screams, just lots of blood."

Bilbo looked ready to faint...it was hilarious. Kili, Fili, and Malcolm looked at each other and started snorting with laughter.

"You think that's funny?" Thorin demanded, making his way over to them. "You think a night raid by orcs is a joke?"

The dwarf brothers started to apologize, but Malcolm stood his ground. "No, we just think Bilbo is a joke."

Thorin stared him down. Then he leaned down, his face right up near Malcolm's and said, "You watch your step, Master Wilkerson. I demand your respect." Then he walked to the edge of the cliff and looked out over the valley.

Balin came over and sat next to Malcolm. "Don't mind him, laddie. Thorin has more cause than most to hate orcs. After the dragon took the Lonely Mountain, King Thror, Thorin's grandfather, tried to reclaim the ancient dwarf kingdom of Moria. But our enemy had got their first."

"Orcs?" Malcolm guessed.

"Precisely. Leading them was the most vile of their race, Azog the Defiler. The giant Gundabad orc had sworn to wipe out the line of Durin, and began by beheading the king. Thrain, Thorin's father, was driven mad by grief. He went missing, taken prisoner or killed, we did not know. We were leaderless. Defeat or death were upon us. That's when I saw him, a youngdwarf prince, facing off against the Pale Orc. He stood alone against this terrible foe, armor rent, wielding nothing but an oaken branch as a shield. Azog the Defiler learned that day that the line of Durin would not be so easily broken. Our forces rallied and drove the orcs back. Our enemy had been defeated. But there was no feast or song that night, for our dead were beyond the count of grief. We few had survived. And I thought to myself then, there is one who I could follow. There is one I could call king."

Bilbo looked worried. "And the Pale Orc? What happened to him?"

Thorin was the one who answered, coming back as everyone looked at him. He said that Azog was dead, but Malcolm had a strange nagging feeling in his stomach that told him otherwise.

A few uncomfortable moments later, Bifur asked Malcolm, "What about you? Is there any legend or folklore in your world?"

Malcolm looked at the dwarf while he thought, trying not to linger on the rusty axe embedded in Bifur's head. Legends or folklore?

After a little while, Malcolm gave them a synopsis of _The Exorcist._ When he was finished, Ori vomited a little and Thorin warned Malcolm to keep his mouth shut from then on.


	9. A Slight Problem

**Chapter Nine**

The next day was incredibly rainy, which made riding through the woods unspeakably dreadful. Malcolm hated the rain because it reminded him of the hours his mother had made stand out in pouring rain with his hands behind his head. The others were just annoyed that they were getting wet. Dori even asked Gandalf if he could make it clear up. He couldn't.

Bilbo and Malcolm learned from Gandalf that he was one of five wizards. There was Gandalf the Gray, Saruman the White, and two blue wizards.

"You know, I have quite forgotten their names," Gandalf admitted.

The fifth was the Brown wizard, Radagast.

"Is he a great wizard? Or is he...more like you?" asked Bilbo meekly.

Malcolm couldn't help but laugh.

Soon after, the company came across an open field of greenery with the remains of a ruined cottage accenting the plains. Thorin declared that this was their new campground and told Fili and Kili to watch the ponies.

"A farmer and his family lived here..." Gandalf muttered. He looked exceedingly uncomfortable. "I think it would be wiser to move on. We could make for the hidden valley."

Thorin barked orders for Oin and Gloin to start a fire and then turned to him. "I have told you; I will not go near that place."

"Why not?" Malcolm wavered, coming up behind.

"This does not concern you," Thorin dismissed.

Gandalf paid him no heed, clearly trusting Malcolm enough. "Because, Master Wilkerson, that is where the elves live, and dwarves and elves have a long standing enmity."

"Which is entirely their fault!" Thorin interjected. He turned back to Malcolm. "Get out of our way. Why don't you go keep an eye on Fili and Kili."

Clearly it was not a negotiation. Malcolm almost protested but bit his tongue when he remembered what Thorin had said about respect and keeping his mouth shut. He followed Fili and Kili a short ways back into the woods, helping them to round up the horses. Afterwards they spent less time guarding the horses like they were supposed to and more time swapping complaints about Thorin's bossiness. It wasn't until at least three or four hours had gone by that Malcolm noticed something was wrong.

"Uh...how many ponies were there."

"Sixteen," Fili answered. "Why?"

"I count fourteen." An instant later Fili and Kili were crouching beside him, staring into the trees and trying desperately to locate the absent ponies in the shadows.

"I think Daisy and Bungo are the ones we're missing," Malcolm said.

"Do you see those trees?" Kili pointed to a few uprooted tree trunks through the woods. "Only something very large could have felled those like that."

"Something large?" Malcolm rasped. "Like what?"

"Trolls, maybe. Or Wargs; those are like vicious oversized wolves. Also, some orcs and goblins are much bigger than their kin. That is a possibility," Fili explained.

"Whatever it is, we cannot tell Thorin," Kili asserted. "He already thinks we are immature."

They were still fretting over what to do when they heard a familiar voice called out their names. None of them turned to look, but they could tell that it was Bilbo making his way towards them.

"Bombur made soup. I tried it and it's quite good. Gandalf left, though, and he hasn't come back yet. I wonder where he's got to...?"

Bilbo plopped himself on the ground beside them. The had a bowl of soup in each hand and a third balanced on his head. Malcolm hazarded a guess that these were for them, but his appetite was all but gone.

Fili and Kili were still staring straight ahead. "We're supposed to be looking after the ponies," the latter mentioned.

"Only, we've encountered a slight problem."


	10. The Trolls

**Chapter Ten**

Bilbo only grew more alarmed as Malcolm and Kili and Fili explained the situation to him.

"Well, that's not good," Bilbo breathed. "That is not good at all. Shouldn't we tell Thorin?"

"No," Fili said. "Let's not worry him. We thought, as our official burglar, you might take a look."

Bilbo was too terrified to do much of anything, which is why it was Fili who noticed a glowing light in the distance. It looked like it could be a fire, but in the opposite direction of the dwarves' camp. There was faint laughter coming from that direction - very deep laughter.

"What is it?" asked bilbo.

"Trolls," said Kili.

"Crap!" exclaimed Malcolm.

"Shh! Keep your voice down. Let's go take a look," said Fili. He grabbed Malcolm's arm and pulled him in that direction. Kili and Bilbo followed. In the center of a clearing were two enormous, lumpy, stone-gray creatures seated around a fire, over which a large soup pot was boiling. To their left was a rudimentary pen containing two ponies - Daisy and Bungo.

A third troll crashed through the trees right beside them, carrying an additional two ponies. Malcolm recognized them as Minty and Myrtle. His pony and Bilbo's.

"He's got Myrtle and Minty!" said the hobbit. "I think they're going to eat them!"

Fili and Kili abruptly decided that it was Bilbo who ought to go and get them, nd Malcolm volunteered to go with him. "How hard can it be?"

Fili and Kili disappeared, giving Malcolm and Bilbo instruction to, should they run into trouble, "hoot twice like a barn owl and oncelike a brown owl," which bewildered both of them. With that, the hobbit and the boy edged their way around the trolls' camp, careful not to enter their line of sight. The trolls were disgusting creatures, and very dimwitted. One of them couldn't tell a horse from a sheep. As it turned out, they were also the ones who ate "the leathery old farmer" and his family. Malcolm and Bilbo struggle with the knots holding the pen together, but they were too tight. Bilbo noticed that one of the trolls had a sharp blade on its belt.

One said, "Are we having horse tonight or what?"

"Shut yer cakehole. You'll eat what I give you!"

"How come 'e's the cook?" one grumbled to the first. "Everything tastes the same, like chicken."

"Except the chicken. That tastes like fish."

They continued to argue, while Malcolm and Bilbo got behind the troll with the knife. Suddenly he stood up, scratched his butt and sat back down, which Malcolm found plain disgusting.

The troll they were behind started to sneeze, and all Malcolm could think of was how great it was that the troll's nose was pointed the other way - until said troll reached behind him and grabbed Bilbo along with his handkerchief. He sneezed into Bilbo's torso, and Malcolm couldn't remember ever feeling so sorry for another person.

"Ahh!" the troll screamed. "Look what's come out of me hooter! It's got arms and legs and everything!"

The other trolls leaned in, and Malcolm wondered if Bilbo was as frozen in shock as he was.

"What is it?"

"I don't know. I don't like the way it wriggles around?"

"What are you then, an oversized squirrel?"

"I'm a burglar-ah-hobbit," Bilbo stammered.

"A burglerobbit?"

"Can we cook him?"

"We can try!"

That was all Malcolm needed to break out of his shock. He grabbed folds of the troll's gray fless and climbed up the repulsive creature's back. It squealed in shock as Malcolm hoisted himself up onto the boulder-like head.

"What's this? What's on me 'ead?!"

"I dunno...are you a burglerobbit too, little fing?"

"No! I'm a human boy and my name is Malcolm." Malcolm had no idea what a barn owl or a brown owl sounded like, but he made three convincing hooting noises. The biggest troll snatched Malcolm off his companion's head and inspected the creature in his hand.

"What's that noise you're makin', eh? Not-a-burglerobbit?"

Malcolm hooted again, but the troll that was holding him shoved the tip of his finger in Malcolm's mouth, prompting the boy to choke and sputter in disgust.

"Can we cook this little fing, too?"

"Don't see why no-AH!"

The big troll holding Malcolm dropped him suddenly. Malcolm crashed to the ground and landed on his back, only to be breathlessly pulled up by none other than Dori.

In fact, all the dwarves were there, wielding swords and axes and bows. Dwalin tossed Malcolm a dagger and he inexpertly stuck one of the trolls right in the leg. It howled in pain.

The dwarves fought as hard as they could, but the trolls were big and one of them managed to grab Bilbo. They held him by the limbs, making the dwarves drop their weapons.

Five minutes later, Malcolm was tied to a spit with Ori's elbow digging painfully into his temple. Five dwarves and Bilbo were on the ground, trapped in sacks, with the remaining eight and Malcolm revolving around above the fire.

"Why bother cooking them?" one troll said. "Let's just sit on the and squash 'em into jelly!"

"They should be sauteed and grilled with a sprinkle of sage."

"Oh, that does sound quite nice."

"Never mind. Dawn ain't far away'n I don't fancy being turned to stone."

Turned to stone? "What does he mean?" Malcolm asked Ori.

"Sunlight turns mountain trolls to stone," he replied.

The gears in Malcolm's brain turned and ticked until he had a brilliant plan. "Wait!" he cried.

"Huh?"

"Wait! Listen! You are putting your own lives in danger! WILL YOU PLEASE LISTEN TO ME!?"

The trolls sniffed and hesitated, but turned the spit so they could look at Malcolm.

"What do you mean, little not-a-burglerobbit fing?"

Malcolm took a deep breath. "Okay. The spice sage comes from a genus plant named _Salvia officinalis._ It's the biggest plant out of nine-hundred different species contained in the so-called Lamiacea family, which also includes mint."

"The what now?"

"The Lamiacea family. Anyway, the composition of Salvia includes different polyphenolic compounds like carnosic acid."

 _"Acid?"_ gasped one troll.

"You mean we eat acid ev'ry time we sprinkle some sage on somefing?"

"Yes, exactly! The acid can be a good thing because it burns the calories in your stomach system by strengthening your metabolism. This can keep you strong. But the problem is, that fire of yours is much too hot."

"You what now?"

"It's too hot! I know that I, for one, am sweating like a pig, and I bet so is everyone on this spit. Sweat contains is mostly made up of water, but it also contains dissolved magnesium, which is, of course, a metal. So the acid will corrode the metal and the resulting rust can make you very, very sick!"

This was absolute nonsense of course. The acid was not nearly strong enough to do any damage and sweat only contained only contained thirteen ten-thousandths of a gram of magnesium. But the trolls were stupid enough to believe anything, as Malcolm knew.

One of them screamed and tried immediately to dislodge the spit but the big one grabbed him and pulled him back. "Don't be a foolish, William!" he growled. "The not-a-burglerobbit is only little. What can it know about plants and...and acids...and...magnasesiumssss."

 _"Magnesium._ And I swear, all of that was true."

The dwarves were entirely bewildered all through Malcolm's speech, but they seemed to guess his plan and shouted praise for him: "And he's very clever!" "Yes, he has an I.Q. of one-hundred and fifty-five!" "No, Bofur, it was one-hundred and _sixty-_ five."

"I think we should listen to the fing!" cried the one who had screamed before - William, his name was. "Why take the risk? Ohhh, I've been killing meself me whole life!"

Nobody noticed the sun that had begun to rise over the trees - and it was just as William said this that the golden light hit the three trolls.

Screams of pain and anguish racked their bodies as their arms writhed. A second later and the three of them were no longer living trolls, just white marble statues.

The dwarves cheered.

"Hooray for Malcolm!" one of them cried.

"Hooray indeed." I was Gandalf, stepping out from behind some rocks.

 _"What?"_ Thorin groaned. "You? Were you there the whole time? Why didn't you help us? And where were you, anyway? Why did you come back?"

"Patience, Master Dwarf. I left to look ahead, and I came back to look behind. And I would have helped you, but I figured that you Malcolm here would beat me to it...and in a way that was most entertaining to observe. I told you it was a good idea to have him in your company. A million thanks, Malcolm Wilkerson."

"Aye, brilliant job, laddie!" Dwalin agreed. "Now, Gandalf, if you wouldn't mind helping us down...?"


	11. Rhosgobel Rabbits

**Chapter Eleven**

Gandalf and Thorin concluded that since the trolls could not have traveled in daylight, there must be a cave nearby, so the company set back into the woods to search for it. Finally they found it: a large, muddy, smelly hole in the ground, with flies buzzing in and out of it. Malcolm wrinkled his nose but trailed inside nonetheless. He had experienced worse when Dewey was a baby.

The contents of the cave were well juxtaposed with the locations ugly appearance. Chests full of treasure, good weapons. Gloin, Nori and Bofur set about burying one of the gold chests, while Gandalf, Thorin, and Malcolm browsed the weapons. Gandalf talked Thorin into keeping an Elvish sword, and took one himself also. For Malcolm he found something else.

"Malcolm!" he called. "Look."

In his hand he held a small crossbow and a sheath of small arrows. It looked like hours of pranks with Francis would finally pay off.

"You mentioned being able to use this back in Bag-End," said Gandalf.

Malcolm saw a target on the other end of the cave, loaded his weapon, aimed, and fired. He struck the target just inches from the center. Thorin raised his eyebrows but refused to say anything.

"Let's get out of this foul place," he said.

As they were leaving, Malcolm spotted a small knife, the same size as a switchblade. He pocketed that too. He had no real experience using weapons, but he knew they might come in handy - and besides, how cool were they!

When they left, Gandalf handed Bilbo a small sword in a leather sheath. It was huge compared to Malcolm's new knife, but much smaller than Thorin and Gandalf's new swords. Gandalf told him that the blade would glow blue around orcs and goblins.

Just as they were clearing the area, something came towards them through the trees. Everyone immediately raised their weapons, but it turned out to be no threat at all. A man with a brown beard and a long brown coat rode up and stopped in front of Gandalf in a sled pulled by rabbits _(rabbits?)._

"Thieves! Fire! Murder!" he screeched.

"Radagast!" said Gandalf. "Radagast the Brown, what on earth are you doing here?"

"I was looking for you, Gandalf! Something's wrong. Something's terribly wrong!"

"Yes?"

Radagast seemed to be struggling with what to say. "Oh, I had a thought and now I've lost it! It was right there, on the tip of my tongue. Wait, it's not a thought at all. It's just a silly old stick insect."

Radagast pulled a bug out of his mouth. Malcolm rolled his eyes at the brown wizard's antics and Gandalf and Radagast stepped away from the group to talk privately. Malcolm tried eavesdropping on their conversation, but they spoke in very hushed tones and he didn't want to get too close so he could only hear a few words.

"The Greenwood is sick...webs...spiders...Dol Guldur...ancient horror...Necromancer."

At one point, Radagast pulled out a cloth package and handed it to Gandalf. Malcolm tried to see what was in it, but Gandalf kept it well concealed from his vision.

"I, too have something to share," said Gandalf, putting the package away. There was a slight tremor in his voice. "Come over here, Malcolm."

Malcolm did, and Radagast eyed his clothing.

"Gandalf...he's not..."

"He is from the Globe World."

"Good gracious me, Gandalf, truly?"

"We call it Earth where I come from," Malcolm added.

"How did you come by him?"

"I summoned him. The barrier was much thinner than it has been in an age. And there is only one force that could thin the barrier that way..."

Before Gandalf could continue, there was a long howl that echoed around the forest.

"Was that a wolf" Bilbo asked.

Bofur told him it wasn't, just as the thing responsible leapt out at the between the trees. It looked kind of like a wolf, but much bigger. It snarled at them before attacking, only to be killed by Thorin. Another one appeared, and was promptly slain by Dwalin.

"Oh my GOD!" Malcolm spat.

"Warg scouts!" said Thorin. "Which means an orc pack is not far behind."

Gandalf was horrified. "Who did you tell about your quest, beyond your kin?"

"No one."

"Who did you tell?!"

"No one, I swear! What in Durin's name is going on?"

"You are being hunted."

The company was about to bolt when Ori revealed that the ponies had run away. And after all that trouble to save them from trolls!

"I'll draw them off," Radagast offered.

"These are Gundabad Wargs," Gandalf reminded him. "They will outrun you."

"These are Rhosgobel Rabbits! I'd like to see them try."

Everyone gaped at him.


	12. Arriving in Rivendell

**Chapter Twelve**

Radagast hopped in his chariot and rode off, leaving the approaching orcs to chase him. He was right; his rabbits were very fast.

Directly out of the forest was a grassy plain filled with large rocks, that Malcolm and the dwarves ran across until they were breathless. Malcolm could barely keep up. Every once in awhile they would duck behind one of the boulders to hide from the pack, which gave them a pretty good head start.t one point, Thorin turned to Gandalf and asked where he was leading them. He didn't get a response.

The Wargs picked up their scent and turned in their direction, so the dwarves hid behind a large rock. The Warg could still smell them, so it climbed on top of the rock, only to be shot by Kili, the orc riding on it falling in front of the dwarves to be killed.

The orc leader realized where the dwarves were hiding, they chased them more, the ones chasing Radagast returning to corner the company. Kili tried to kill some of them, but it was clear that it was futile...until Gandalf showed them a crack in the rock that led to a dark cave.

They were packed very tightly together in the dark dampness, but at least they were safe from the orc pack who tried to follow them but could not fit into the cave with their Wargs. Gandalf did a head count. Everyone was there.

What happened next was a absolute miracle, especially as the orcs would have figured out where they were hiding sooner or later: a brand-new company invaded the plain and started killing the orcs. Malcolm couldn't see anything but he could hear the clatter of hooves, orcs' squeals of pain and numerous battle cries from the newcomers, whose identity was revealed when a dead orc fell into the cave. It had an arrow piercing its body, which Thorin removed and examined.

"Elves," he muttered in disgust.

Soon the battle noises faded away, and they were left for a few seconds with the uneasy but triumphant feeling that at least most of their orc enemies were dead. Someone noticed a pathway leading out of the back of the cave and the company decided to follow it. It led to a very narrow path within a crack in two cliffs. Malcolm, who was small, even compared to the dwarves, could barely squeeze through. Finally the damn claustrophobic walkway opened at edge of a cliff.

Malcolm suddenly couldn't breathe as he found himself looking out at an immense valley. Littering the long green grass was multicolored buildings that radiated with a faint glow. It was incredibly beautiful.

"The valley of Imraldis," Gandalf proclaimed. "In the the Common Tongue it is known by another name."

Bilbo, despite looking as dumbstruck as Malcolm felt, was able to vocalize the answer. "Rivendell."

Rivendell. The name fit.

Thorin, however, looked horrified, and decided to blame Gandalf. "This was your plan all along," he said. "To seek refuge with our enemy."

"You have no enemies here, Thorin Oakenshield! The only ill will to be found in this valley is that which you bring yourself."

"Do you think the elves will give us their blessing? They will try to stop us!"

"Of course they will, but we have questions that need to be answered. If we are to be successful, this will need to be handled with tact and respect and no small degree of charm, which is why you will leave the talking to myself and Master Wilkerson."

"Great!" said Malcolm. "I, for one, and all for going in."

"No one pays what you are 'all for' any mind, child. Do try to stay quiet," Thorin mumbled.

They made their way down the valley and across a bridge to the gates of the city, where Malcolm saw an elf for the first time. He looked like a person, except taller with pointed ears, long brown hair, and a radiance that resembled that of his city.

"Mithrandir," greeted the elf.

Mithrandir? Malcolm thought. Doesn't he mean Gandalf?

The wizard, however, seemed to have two names for he responded with the elf's name, "Ah, Lindir."

"Lastannem i athrannedh i Vruinen." Malcolm didn't recognize the language Lindir was speaking.

Gandalf did. "I must speak with Lord Elrond," he answered in English.

"My Lord Elrond is not here."

"Not here? Where is he?"

Apparently he was arriving in Rivendell at that very moment, for horns sounded and Lindir looked up in surprise. A group of armed elves on horses rode across the bridge and Malcolm hazarded a guess that these were their saviors from before. Thorin seemed alarmed shouting an order that drove the dwarves into a rallied attack position.

The elves did, them no harm, however. One of them, whom Gandalf greeted as Elrond, walked up to them. He was polite to Thorin, who failed to return the favor. Elrond nevertheless invited them to dine with him. Malcolm decided that he quite liked elves.


	13. Reese

**Chapter Thirteen**

For once Malcolm felt more mature than the dwarves. He was the only one who would willingly eat the salad Lord Elrond provided them with. All of the dwarves grumbled and complained about there not being any meat, with Ori actually claiming to not like green food, like some sort of four-year-old.

Malcolm also proved to be the only one who enjoyed the music played, with Oin even stuffing a napkin in his hearing trumpet. It was the kind of classical, sophisticated music that Malcolm couldn't enjoy at home, with his brothers present. He closed his eyes, and tried to truly absorb it, but his dwarvish companions were making too much noise.

At the other table, Elrond was examining the swords ten by Gandalf and Thorin from the troll-hoard.

"This is Orcrist," he said, looking at Thorin's sword. "The Goblin-Cleaver. A famous blade, forged by the high elves of the West. My kin. May it serve you well." Then, it was Gandalf's sword. "And this is Glamdring, the Foe-Hammer, sword of the King of Gondolin. These swords were made for the goblin wars of the first age."

Bilbo, listening, seemed interested in the conversation, partially unsheathing his own sword, before Balin gently put him off. "I wouldn't bother, laddie. Swords are named for the great deeds they do in war."

"Are you saying my sword hasn't seen battle?"

"I'm not sure it is a sword. More of a letter-opener."

Malcolm snorted into his cup, accidentally inhaling some of his juice.

Before long, Lord Elrond made his way over to the table, near where Malcolm sat, Thorin and Gandalf trailing after him. "So," he began, "Gandalf, you tell me that this child is of the Globe world."

"He is," Gandalf asserted. "I brought him here myself."

"What a coincidence. Some time ago, my guards discovered another young boy in our valley. Based on what he has said to us, we have concluded that he is from the Globe World as well."

Malcolm's head shot up, and the dwarves who overheard fell quiet to listen. "Really?" Malcolm cried. "Who? Where is he?"

"He wouldn't tell anyone his name, but he caused so much havoc in our good city that I had no choice but to put him in the dungeon."

Malcolm raised an eyebrow. That's odd, he thought. How could someone else have come from the Globe World. Then, Malcolm's mind turned to something Gandalf had said when he first arrived in Middle Earth.

"Can I ask you something?" inquired Malcolm.

"Of course you may."

"This boy, was he a little bit older than me, with short brown hair?"

Elrond stared at him for a moment, then nodded slowly. The dwarves all gave Malcolm wary glances.

"Malcolm," thundered Thorin, "do you know of whom Lord Elrond speaks?"

"Maybe. Can-can I see him."

Elrond was hesitant, but nodded. He wouldn't let Malcolm into the dungeon, so he ordered two other elves to bring "the prisoner" to the dining hall, but only "under close supervision."

Malcolm waited for a few minutes. Then a few more. Then a few more, until he was sick of the agonizing suspense. He hoped desperately that his hunch was wrong, and wanted very quickly to confirm this. The dwarves resumed conversation, but were much quieter, possibly reveling in the possibility of another Malcolm.

After what seemed like an eternity, Elrond's servants returned, each of them clinging tightly to the arms of a boy. The boy was dirty, his clothes more dirty than the last time Malcolm saw them, but he would recognize his brother anywhere.

"Oh Jesus," Malcolm whispered. "Hi Reese."

Reese stared at him. "Okay," he said finally. "What kind of pot have you given me? I'm hallucinating my brother being here."

"Reese, don't be an idiot. Who am I kidding, you're always an idiot! Lord Elrond, I'm really, really sorry for any trouble my brother may have caused you. Reese, what did you do?! How...what...?"

Elrond looked partially amused but mostly terrified. "I see you two do know each other after all."

"Malcolm, is this the demon child you told me about?" Bilbo asked.

"Is this the brother that tried to kill you?" asked Fili.

"Yes and yes. Everyone, this is Reese."

"Malcolm, I thought you died in the earthquake."

"Reese, what the hell are you talking about?"

"You know, the earthquake in our house. The one that sent me here."

"That wasn't an earthquake, doofus, that was Gandalf's magic!"

"Yeah, and the tooth fairy does exist after all."

Malcolm stared, his mouth open. Then, he turned to Gandalf and Elrond. "Excuse me, please, I need a moment alone to talk to my brother."


End file.
